


Silhouette

by lonelywalker



Category: Le Pacte des Loups (Brotherhood of the Wolf)
Genre: M/M, Multi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2010-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-14 01:17:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelywalker/pseuds/lonelywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas stumbles upon something he'd never even imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silhouette

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blacksquirrel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacksquirrel/gifts).



Thomas has wandered the corridors of his father’s castle all his life, discovering the same back stairways and quiet corridors his father and grandfather before him had no doubt also done as children. Perhaps one day his own son will scramble around the cold stone floors, imagining that he does so in absolute secrecy.

When he reaches Fronsac’s room, he can only hope that, for once in his life, the shadows surrounding him are more than a childish illusion.

He should tell himself that the figures he sees before the fire – Fronsac’s blond hair hanging loose over his shirt, the savage Mani's unmistakably brown, tattooed skin – are only wrestling. But that, too, would be a childish lie. He _does_ tell himself that the only reason he stays put, frozen in place, is the fear of either of them seeing him. Such men, he knows, are capable of anything.

His breathing seems horribly loud in the silence of the doorway, but neither of the men seem to notice him, caught up in each other in a way Thomas hasn’t even seen at the whorehouse. There’s no casual humor in their eyes, no flippancy to any movement. This is old and familiar and intense in a way Thomas never even intends to be with his eventual wife. It almost sickens him to think it, but this is what brothers might be, if brothers made love – a kind of love tempered and beaten through wars, that has still held strong.

The flickering fire makes colors dance before his eyes as he gazes at the muscles of Mani’s body, at the graceful movements of a man who could be a beautiful dancer, but is instead a beautiful killer. And Fronsac’s _face_ … Thomas finds himself wishing that any man would ever look at him in that way, with that sort of respect and admiration and need.

His hand slips down his thigh as he swallows, wetting dry lips, feeling the familiar stiffening between his legs. It’s just the adrenaline, he tells himself. Just the admiration he feels towards two men who have proven their skills on the battlefield. The body does not know any better.

When Fronsac falls back against the rug, however, his breathless laughter kissed away by the savage, Thomas finds himself still trembling with emotion, yet unable to step away, disappointed somehow that neither great hunter had seen him.

He makes no movement, barely breathing, but Mani’s head snaps around, looking right at the shadows that conceal him. And Fronsac, propping himself up on his elbows, cocks his head in amusement and interest. “Is someone there?”

He should run. He would be back in his own chambers before they caught him. They would never have any idea…

Thomas steps out into the light, as though he has no control over himself, or perhaps as though his body is doing what his mind had wanted it to do all along.

“My apologies, Chevalier. I did not wish to disturb…”

“Come here,” Fronsac says, making no move to get up as Mani crouches, watching both of them.

And, with fear and hope mingling in his heart, Thomas goes to him.


End file.
